Windcrest
by Silver Crimsonthorn
Summary: Aeryn, called Aeryn le Sanguine, is not what she appears. She is also the last hope for all of Nirn. But she doesn't know that. All she knows is a simple mission; aid and protect Martin Septim, even if it means her death. Will be changed to M due to chap2
1. Prelogue

Windcrest: An Oblivion Fanfiction

Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion. I do own the original characters in this story however, and any resemblance to actual persons is purely circumstantial unless otherwise specified. Thank you.

Prologue

As the heavily and darkly cloaked, and obviously feminine figure ghosted down the cobblestone street, the guards were standing by, waiting for the right, bold and rather stupid moment when they would arrest her. As the figure turned into the pub just down the street from the guards' position, the figure's head turned their way, giving them an unseen glare. The guards began to creep down the street noisily, their heavy armour making their attempt at stealth a rather comical thing to behold. As they came to the door of the pub, they opened it with caution, a light rain beginning to fall. They went inside, and scanned the room for the dark figure, finding the dark figure in an even darker corner of the pub, nursing a tall ale.

The figure drained the last half of the ale in a single motion that lasted mere seconds, though second were hours to the terrified guards. Standing, the figure approached the guards slowly, coming to rest less than a foot form the foremost guard.

"Yes, Gentlemen?"

A slightly bolder than most guard was the first to speak up after several moments spent cringing at the dark, emotionless void in the lilting, crystalline voice. "Aeryn la Sanguine?"

A blink in response. "I take it that you are here to arrest me for mass murder and assault?"

Another cringe. "So you know your crimes?"

Aeryn lifted her arms towards the guards, exposing small, pale, fragile-looking wrists. "Yes, though I deny the illegality of my actions."

With wrists now in manacles, there was little that Aeryn could do to stop the guard from hitting her. Aeryn received a steel, gauntlet-covered hand against her cheekbone which sent her to the floor. Long, pink hair spilled from behind tapered ears and out of the now cast-down hood, framing an alabaster pale face that looked to be sculpted from white marble. Pulling herself up on the corner of a table, Aeryn rose again to glower at the guard who had struck her, conviction burning in her bright, emerald green eyes. The guard raised his hand to strike her again, but his hand was caught by the hand of another guard.

"We have her in our custody, let's just take her to the warden and be on our way. She gives me the creeps."

The guard too his hand back from the other who had restrained him. "You know that its just the stories Matthias. After all, after hearing that she had killed eleven fully-armed men by herself, we were all scared, every last one of us. But now," he began, triumph and gloating dripping from his every word,"she couldn't even stand up to a light blow. Pathetic."

Aeryn felt her cheek where the guard had struck her. As the guards "Mattias" and "Jerrik" continued to argue, she felt the rapidly developing bruise and already onset swelling, which felt like it was no-where near finished swelling, of that, Aeryn was sure. She walked to one of the other guards, and asked him the first two questions that came to her mind. She asked when they were leaving, and if she could see a healer to get her already visible injury taken care of.

The three unoccupied of the five guards left Matthias and Jerrik to their argument, and escorted Aeryn first to the healers, then to Warden Jermain to be placed in a prison cell. As Aeryn walked down the damp and narrow corridor to her new "home", she saw the other inmates, and felt sharp pangs of despair.

**DOOMO ARIGATOO GOZAIMASU to Vine Sliver, my Beta Reader.**


	2. Chapter One

Windcrest Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion. I own the characters of my own creation and all other intangible personal property within this story. I do not claim the entirety of the plot of this story, considering that it closely follows the main quest of Oblivion. This is a work of fiction, and as such, the characters are as well. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Thank you for your time.

Chapter One

Priory Houses and Priests

The sun glared into Aeryn's warm, emerald, pink flecked eyes as she exited the sewers. She had little concept of where she was at first, but she could tell after looking around that she was at least a league away from the city. The sun was high in the sky, and with several hours leeway, Aeryn believed that she could reach the city by high-moon. In preparation for defense against the animals of the wilderness that could attack on her way to the Imperial City, Aeryn knocked an arrow and held her bow low, but still at the ready to be raised and strike.

As she began walking, she heard dull hoof beats. Two deer, one a mid-sized buck, likely in it's second year, and one smaller, likely a doe, and-for what Aeryn could tell-with a limp in one leg. Aeryn knelt to the ground and inhaled deeply. They were here recently. As Aeryn inspected the ground, she discovered that she was right about the limp; the doe's left foreleg had likely been mauled when it was younger, and it was shorter than the rest and deformed about the knee. She crept forward and knocked a second arrow with her first. Once the deer were within her sight, she fired both arrows...and both deer fell simultaneously to the ground, dead within an instant of being shot, the arrows running through their jugulars.

She knew that there would be a decent market value on the venison that she could collect from the deer. And that would help her significantly in the purchase of the supplies that she required in order to make the journey as simple and safe as possible. Aeryn knew that somehow, for some reason that she was not privy to, the journey would not be as simple as Baurus had made it seem. That there would invariably be some complication of the original plan. A setback, or a change of direction and purpose.

Aeryn resumed her long trek to the city. _"How did I manage to end up in this mess?_" she thought to herself. "_What did I do to deserve this? Nothing, am I correct in assuming that?_" Aeryn sighed. She missed her brothers. She missed her mother, her father...she missed her family deeply. She was forty-two years old, and yet, she appeared to be no more than sixteen.

Lost in thought, Aeryn did not notice the bobcat stalking her. Once she had noticed, the bobcat was already mid-air, claws extended, pouncing to kill.

By the time it had reached her, it was already dead.

Aeryn folded her wings back to where they belonged; lightly glistening shadows, ethereal ghosts, trailing behind her, flowing from her form. Aeryn looked skywards as memories began to haunt her. To taunt her.

"The stars shine like diamonds, Ada. They shine as your crystalline hide. Your Pyra misses you deeply." Aeryn sighed. She hadn't called herself nor been called that in years. As she thought back to the last time when she had been called by that name, she sighed, and her sorrow multiplied a thousand fold. She had last been called that when she and her brothers had finally parted ways.

As Aeryn moved ever steadily towards the Imperial City, her thoughts began to wander away from it. They began to go back to that place where she was born, the cottage in the woods that no longer was there. She knew little of what was going on as her thoughts, and as such, her mind, drifted away to the east. There, there was a mark upon the earth, a scorched scar that would never be healed. There lay her ama, her beautiful ama, Scarletta la Sanguine. Aeryn remembered her ama's beautiful Dunmeri features...her bluish-grey skin, her warm, crimson eyes...her long, flowing, scarlet hair. She missed her mother, her beautiful ama. Her ama who had adopted her half-brothers. Her ama who had been killed by a necromancer's servant in the middle of the night.

When metacognizance reclaimed Aeryn, she was at the gate to the Imperial City, stopped by a guard.

"'Scuse me, Mizz. Whots yer business 'ere? 'S awful late out, and ther've been lots of bandits about of late." A thick accent permeated his voice, making it somewhat hard to understand him. Aeryn guessed that the man grew up in or near the Black Marsh.

"I know that. I'm traveling from Bruma. This evening, I was close enough to the city that I felt that I should continue on so I might sleep in a true bed." Her skill in speechcraft employed and a small amount of glamour as well (Aeryn was very beautiful and exotic, much like her mother, Scarletta), Aeryn explained away her tardiness.

The guard blinked, his face flushing a slight pink. Aeryn could feel that he ws embarrassed. "A'ight, Mizz. Wos just askin'. S'my duty to ask these sorts of things late at night."

Aeryn wandered down familiar cobblestone streets to one of the taverns that she rarely visited. After she had had food and drink and was laying in a bed, she was actually content. She drifted into sleep, and it was a peaceful sleep...for a time.

In her dream, Aeryn stood inside a burning building. Timbers and support beams fell all around her from the ceiling, and though she wished to run, her limbs remained still, as though they were frozen in place. Fire atronachs swarmed about her, creating a circular barrier of fire that spread inwards towards her, burning her little by little. Though she wished to run, she could not. Though she wished to scream, her mouth was dumb, and no words escaped her lips. Pain shot through her body as the flames scorched her flesh, and though she felt her knees give way, some force held Aeryn in place, just as it had held her down, eliminating all chance of escape. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bright light, as though someone was using some form of frost magica. The atronochs fled, all heavily injured, and Aeryn collapsed to the ground. She looked up, and saw the figure. Warm, blue eyes bore into her own, and the figure-who looked oddly like Uriel Septim-placed his hands on the side of her face, healing her injuries. As her skin was knitting back together, the figure, who hadn't yet looked away, whispered her name. She couldn't help but utter his-"Martin."

Aeryn snapped awake. Tremors racked her body, and she was immobilized by them. The tremors slowed, and the seizure stopped. "_Martin? Who is Martin?_" she thought to herself. She had never before seen the figure, the man who saved her. As such, she had never before whispered his name..."..._and in such a manner, too! You would think that I loved this...Martin._"

She stood up and brushed the few straggling fleas from her body and walked across the room. She now remembered why she rarely came to this inn-the persistence of pests and blood-sucking fiends, both humanoid and insect in nature. She walked across the room to the water basin, which someone-likely the inkeep's daughter-had come in and filled with steaming hot water. Aeryn took her hair out of the tightly wound bun that it was in, placing the hairpins on a small bench near the basin. Aeryn slid down into the hot water, wincing as she found that she had indeed sustained injury in her escape from the prison-something which she already knew.

As she wiped the dirt and grime from her body, she heard footsteps in the hall. The door to her room creaked open, and a timid voice pierced the still air. "Miss? May I come in for a few moments?"

Aeryn noted the rigid politeness of the young woman. "Of course. You'll have to excuse me, as I have already entered the basin which you prepared."

The young woman entered the room. "My name is Synvia. I'm-"

Aeryn cut her off. "The Inkeep's daughter. You took over your mother's duties when she died a few years ago, and you were concerned about me, as my clothes were battered and I looked as though I had been injured in a fight. You came to check to see if I had indeed taken advantage of the bathwater that you so graciously prepared-and I thank you for that, Synvia-and whether or not I needed anything else. Am I correct in my...assumption?"

Synvia stared at Aeryn. "Why...yes, Miss. Are...are you perhaps one of the Aelyid? Your hair and eyes are so strange, and your skin is so fair. And you seem to be able to look into my eyes and hear my thoughts. You act so fey, Miss, so inhuman...even for an elf. Are you perhaps of the...of the dragon-kin?"

Aeryn looked at Synvia. "No. I am not of the Aelyid. I am indeed of the Dragon-kin. And as to your question, yes. I would like some help."

Synvia nodded in affirmation. "How may I help, my lady? Anything you need, anything at all, Miss, and I will attempt to get it for you."

Aeryn thought for a moment. "I'll be in need of some clothing, as I need to go to the market. Anything that you have to spare will do nicely. And...could you help me clean my hair?"

Synvia curtsied, and sped away, coming back after a few minutes with a pale blue dress. Aeryn cringed at the thought of wearing it; it had too much lace for her taste. Synvia put the dress down on the bedside table and walked over to Aeryn with perfumed hair cleansers. They smelled of flowers and sandalwood; Aeryn could only guess at their cost.

Synvia wet Aeryn's hair, and applied the perfumed cleansers. She worked them into a lather in Aeryn's hair, and the scents began to over-permeate the room. As Synvia toiled away to expunge any trace of dirt from Aeryn, Aeryn relaxed to an extent. The water was warm, the room smelled better than before, and she was simply content. For the first time in a long time, she felt some glimmer of happiness.

Synvia had obviously had some experience with bathing others before; her fingers skillfully untangled knots and scrubbed away all traces of dirt that may have lain in her hair or on her scalp. Aeryn knew that she wouldn't get an opportunity like this for likely a long time, so she simply remained quiet and let Synvia work. Aeryn was confused, however, as to how Synvia had come to know of her draconic nature. And as for why Synvia would seem to revere her because of her nature, Aeryn could only assume. Aeryn began to search through Synvia's mind, well unbeknownst to Synvia, and she found what she was looking for: a reason.

As Aeryn was searching, Aeryn began to see what Synvia was seeing. Her hair was now a much brighter shade of pink, and it was a beautiful, silvery rose color. Her skin was so pale, she would seem dead if it was not for the healthy, golden glow of the living. With the slight grey tint to her skin, she looked as though she was perhaps carved of a marble stone, living rock that bent as though it were skin. Synvia looked towards the rest of Aeryn's body, and emitted a slightly horrified gasp. "My lady," Synvia said with a start, "where ever did you get those scars?"

Aeryn sat up straight, and turned to look at Synvia. Horrible scarring ran the length of her chest and curved onto her breast, and older, more ragged, sinister scars marred the simple beauty of her finely toned legs. "In my escape from the catacombs beneath the city, I encountered many terrible things. Some of them were more agile than others, and managed to wound me. My wounds are still healing. That is why you see these scars."

Synvia nodded. "I understand."

Aeryn looked herself over twice, and judged herself to be more than clean enough. She stood up in the basin, and pulled the towel off of the small stool. As she dried herself, Synvia readied the pale blue dress. Aeryn cringed; there was still, by-far too much lace, and Aeryn noticed Synvia readying a corset. Aeryn sighed quietly, and prepared herself for several hours of torture.

Aeryn wandered about the merchants' quarter with a refined air; she smelled and looked like a lady from a wealthy family, and she could put on the airs to pull it off. She was, after all, truly a member of an honored, wealthy family-by far wealthier than any common noble's family, and perhaps more so than the royal family. Many men watched her with attentive eyes, for she was stunning and exotic to them. She was beautiful to them.

In all actuality, she had already been seen by most-if not all-of these men. But she was the woman in the shadows, the woman in black. Her face was always hidden by her hood, and her heart was rumored to be as black as her cloak. But now that she was out in the open, out from under the cloak which had so shrouded her from these onlookers, Aeryn felt bare. She felt as though she was missing something, as though she was nude. The pale blue dress that Synvia had provided fit well, and its colour complemented her colouration. Though there was a fair amount of lace, Aeryn found that is was less objectionable than it could have been. Her main issue with the dress was the same issue that she always had with dresses of this sort; the corset always made it too difficult to breathe. By far, corsets were for the strong of constitution, and while Aeryn was that, she was not as patient as some women were.

As she walked into the weaponsmith's shop, Aeryn found the dress to become much more uncomfortable, as the shop's owner had a forge in the back of his shop blazing at full force, making the shop unbearably hot. Aeryn sighed, and began to breathe as deeply as possible. The shopkeep looked at her strangely, then shook his head as though to shake away a daydream.

He spoke with a deep voice, that sounded rough and gravelly, but kind and soft at the same time. "Hullo, Ma'am. What can I do for you today?" Aeryn perused through his displayed wares, a hand placed firmly in the thinnest part of the curve of her waist. She smiled at the shopkeep, looking up at him every minute or so. After several minutes, she spoke.

"I need armor." Aeryn's crystalline voice rang like a bell in the noisy silence. The shopkeep looked as though he was in a mild state of shock. Aeryn looked at him in the eye, and her mezzo soprano voice chimed again. "I need armor badly, and I hear that you are the best for the job. I'm petite, so I'll need custom armor, but for the meantime, I'll need to buy armor that does not fit as well as it should. Think that you can handle that?"

"Ma'am," the shopkeep began, regaining his senses at Aeryn's challenge, "I can handle that. Fenthick is known as the best only because Fenthick is the best. And that is what you shall get, Ma'am." He bent to Aeryn's height and looked her straight in the eye. "The best."

Aeryn laughed, and the lilting notes seemed to hover in the air like birds in flight. "So...Fenthick. Shall you take measurements?" She smiled again at Fenthick, and he set about his work. Once he got to Aeryn's waist, he spent several minutes perplexed as to how to get accurate measurements. Aeryn sighed, and told him to loosen the corset. He did so, and Aeryn took several deep breaths before thanking him. Fenthick continued about his work for several more minutes, and then ran to the back of his shop to get something.

He returned with a suit of leather armor that Aeryn could tell would be slightly too large on her, but they would be close. "They were my daughter's. They will serve you better than they would her now. Take them."

Aeryn looked at the beautiful suit of armor and put a bag with five hundred septims on the counter. "A hundred and fifty for the suit, and three hundred and fifty down-payment on the armor. I need it to be strong, preferably adamant or mithril. I need it to be light and flexible as well. I will be back for it, but likely not anytime soon. Farewell."

Aeryn took the armor and walked out of the shop. As she walked with her new armor in her pack which she had slung over her shoulder, Aeryn received many of the same bewildered looks that she had been receiving before, but with a slight change; with the large, bulky pack slung over her shoulder nonchalantly as though it weighed nothing, Aeryn looked as though she should be a male Nord, though she was a very petite female who looked female and fragile, and extremely like an elf.

The people looked at her with bewildered stares because she looked fragile but the manner in which she carried herself and her pack said differently.

Aeryn ducked into the inn, and Synvia approached her almost immediately. "How did things go today, Milady? Shall you need to stay another night?"

Aeryn shook her head. "No, Synvia, I shan't need to remain her another night, but I shall need some traveling supplies such as a flint, which your father sells here, and food, which is also sold here. A four day supply of bread and apples should suffice. I can hunt while I travel."

Synvia followed Aeryn to her room, and helped Aeryn to undress. As Aeryn put on the leggings and shirt that she had purchased earlier that day, Synvia looked at the dress as though it was now sacred. "I don't think that I shall be keeping the dress. I'm not overly fond of dresses in the first place. Thank you for letting me borrow the dress. I shall contact you should I have further need of your services."

Synvia nodded in affirmation. "Of course, Milady. Whatever you could happen to need, I shall attempt to give it to you with all of my might. I am very good at dressing others to look regal, even royal, should you ever need as such."

Aeryn nodded. "Thank you so very much, Synvia. I'm sure I will see you again."

*******

When Aeryn had said that, she was unawares as to just how soon and in what manner she would see Synvia again. Now, as Aeryn winced at the firm grasp Synvia had on a fair amount of her hair, she realized just how deep into this pit she was; by far, too far. Aeryn sighed.

"What is it, Milady?"

"And those asinine morons insist that I cannot possibly act dignified or well-cultured." she sneered. "Well, let me both look and act the part of Martin's empress. Then we shall see whom is the fool here."

Synvia rolled her eyes. "Don't you think that that is rather vindictive? At all spiteful?"

Aeryn sighed. "Yes, it is. But this is also necessary."

Synvia muttered as she set about continuing her work, creating no less than beautiful splendor where once there was plain simplicity. Long pink locks were restrained into braids and curls, still cascading, only now directed in their water-like flow. A dress similar to the dress that Aeryn had worn into the market that day several months ago, this time a blood-red, adorned Aeryn's pallid breast, and where once a blue silk corset lay, now lay a corset of black leather, adorned with silver plating. Aeryn began to reach for her blade, but was stopped by Synvia's quick grasp. Though Aeryn could have easily broken the grasp in mere seconds, she looked to Synvia with a questioning glance.

"Milady...that would not be very couth nor ladylike of you. Leave it here. Trust me."

*******

Martin stalked throughout the halls like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. His arms were crossed as he paced and his answers to the Blades-who so worriedly attempted to make plans with their liege-were quick, short, and rather biting.

"Well, Milord...we could have Jillia here dress as..."

Martin cut Jeoffre off before he could finish. "No. Aeryn. She's the only one I trust to stand at my side for this." _Or at all really..._ he thought to himself.

"But, Sir!" Jillia protested. "Aeryn is uncouth and uncivilized. She will blow her cover the moment something angers her, which could be anything at any moment!"

"Oh really? Uncivilized? Uncouth? Such biting remarks could be applied to you. You dress as a man nigh onto constantly, dear girl, and you eat as one would as well. Don't think I haven't been watching."

Martin sighed in relief, but choked on his sigh mid-way-after Aeryn had come into view. She was dressed in an elaborate crimson velvet dress, with a silver plated black corset over top of that to flaunt her figure. Where she would normally have a simple bun, her hair was placed in an elaborate up-do that she could not have accomplished herself. Though she normally wore no cosmetics, she had had gold eyeshadow, dark brown eyeliner and a dark red lip paint applied. She was...

"...gorgeous."

*******

I saw Martin walk to the stairs to take my sister's hand and help her down. Though she wore no shoes, and walked as silently as ever, every footfall sounded as an earthquake to me. This...man, dare I call him that...quite obviously felt something for my sister. Empathic abilities aside, he quite obviously loved her, though he may not have known it. My sister took one look at me, dressed in the armor of a Blade, and smiled; not with pride, per say, but acceptance. Yes, that was what I saw in her eyes that day-acceptance as to my choice.

"Martin?" she said, the quaver of a question in her voice as she looked at the man who was to be her "husband". He looked at her in a dazed manor, and then blinked rapidly several times and came to attention.

"Oh...erm, yes, my love?" I grimaced at the formality and unsure nature of his voice.

"Milord Martin...if I may..."

Martin looked at me and stated simply, "That wasn't very loving."

I sighed. "You're right. It wasn't. If I may..."

Martin stood aside as I approached. I took Aeryn's hand in my own and began to stroke her cheek. My sister truly did look as beautiful as Martin believed. Uncouth and uncivilized indeed. "Observe, Martin. You may need to know these things later when I cannot be here to coach." I took my sister's face firmly in my hand as I finished a stroke of her cheek and brought her lips to my own. Gently I kissed her upon her lips, breaking the kiss after a few minutes. "Yes, my love?" I said with all a confident and assuring nature to my voice, letting undertones of love come through.

Martin shifted uncomfortably where he stood. "Does...does this mean that your family is incestuous, Aeryn? That you...love your brother?" Martin placed the emphasis on "love". My sister merely laughed, pulled away from me, and took Martin's hand in her own hands.

"No, Heart. I don't love my brother as you might think after that. Blaize is just...a bit of a ladies man. He also can push past the fact that I'm his sister-since it will serve you. I love my brothers, but as brothers only. You should know that by now, Heart-of-Mine. The only one I love..." she trailed off. She brushed some of Martin's hair from his eyes and placed her hand on his cheek, pulling his face towards hers, his lips to meet hers. As she kissed him, I saw no fallacy in her actions. I sensed no fallacy in her actions, nor her words. She truly meant what she had said and was doing. The kiss lasted for mere moments, but watching them, watching their love...one could not help but feel as though the minutes were passing by us ever so slowly and uncomfortably-one couldn't help but feel as though they were intruding on something private. On something secret. She continued, ever so much more quietly than she had begun. "The only one I love is you."

Martin stood again, now slightly more unsure and unsteady on his feet. After he had regained his composure, he began to respond to her confession. "Aeryn...for months now have I known you...and for months have I watched you. Every little thing you do seems important in some way, even if it was placing that healing potion and the dagger on the shelf above my bed. Kissing my forehead every night after that one night, sitting there in that chair across from the weak-point in my room each night...you forever have been doing these simple, subtle, and yet important things. I know not how i can explain how I've come to feel after the few months that we've known each other, but I can think of one thing that I can say; I love you, I love what you are, and I have come to depend on you in so many more ways than one. During those few days that you were away, I must tell you now that I lied; I did not sleep at all those few days, whereas before I had said that I had slept well.

"You now must know that I have been insisting that you be the one to stand and sit beside me as my wife these past many hours because you are the only one that I trust to sit there. I hold nothing against the rest of the Blades, however, what I know is that you have always proven yourself and come through for me in the end. But it is not only that which spurned me onwards to your current assignment."

As Martin paused, I noticed that he took her hands and fell to one knee. _What is he doing? Could he be...?_

"Aeryn, you have become more important to me than life itself. If I had to die this instant so that I could remain with you...I would. I love you more than the cock loves the sun, more than the fish loves the sea. I find that I feel that I would die were I to attempt to live without you. I know that..."

I cut Martin off before he could even begin to continue. That on sentence said it all.

"..._I would die if I were to attempt to live without you_ ? You, my sister, have glamoured Martin for all that he is worth, and then some. I cannot believe that you would do that! You chide me for glamouring people to get my way and to get what I want, and yet you never thought to chide yourself for glamouring _the Emperor_ ?

"Perhaps you aren't so different from myself, dear _sister_." I sneered. It was all that I could do to keep from slapping her. What stopped me, however, did not stop her.

My sister-my petite, fragile-looking sister-backhanded me, sending me flying across the room-no small feat. the other Blades stood there, jaws dropped staring agape at this new spectacle-the tiny, fey, elf-girl sending the large, muscular, heavily armored Imperial man backwards into the air to collide with a wall about forty or fifty feet away...with a single backhanded slap. I rubbed the place on my cheek where her hand has made contact and looked. She stood there, across the room, looking like a picturesque marble statue, her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, her arm held out straight from where she had slapped me. She had not bent down nor leaned back, but merely moved her arm in such a graceful, fluid, solid line as to come into contact with my face.

Startling though that my have been, so too was what she said. And how she said it was even more piercingly chilling to my core than the actual message of her words. Icy hatred permeated her words as she spoke. "I did not glamour Martin Septim, Blaize. In fact, I couldn't even if I had wanted to. I cared by far too much for him to begin with to do such a thing. I find myself insulted and the memory of Scarletta insulted my the mere fact that you would have the audacity to suggest that. The sheer temerity rocks me to my core. I cannot believe that one such as you, thou who art my brother, would know me so poorly as to suggest that I would even do such a thing. And as such, Blaize," she sighed, the hatred now having left her voice to be replaced with sorrow, "I find myself to be unable to call you my brother. Good day." she said looking around at the other inhabitants of the room, "All of you."

With that, my sister lowered her arm, picked up her skirts, and walked noiselessly out of the room. Martin regained his composure after a few moments, and ran after her, paying no mind to myself...or any other for that matter. I looked wistfully out of the frost-covered window, and sighed. _Yet again, I have played the fool._

*******

I knew not where I was going, only that I was leaving. Many things shot through my mind at once, a cacophony coming to crescendo in my mind. As I saddled Epona, I found myself wondering whether I was overreacting or not. Martin ran out of the fort behind me, begging me not to go. I hopped up astride Epona, and the only thing that I could manage to say was, "I'm sorry. I shall return in three days for the meeting. But before that, I am afraid that I cannot stay." I checked to make sure that I had some amount of gold in my saddle bag, my bow and some arrows, then-and only then did I look-I looked at Martin. His eyes were beginning to well up with tears, and his hand strayed to my arm as I held Epona's reigns. "I am sorry. Truly," I bent to kiss him, only to be pulled into a rather passionate kiss before breaking away again, "I am sorry."

With that, I spurred Epona to ride, taking comfort in the evenness of her breathing. As she and I dashed out of the gate, I urged her to run faster. The black horse that she was, Epona was only too happy to oblige. We sped down the hill, keeping to the road only part of the time, into Bruma. I reigned Epona in there in the city, slowing her to a mere trot. As much as Epona still wanted to run, she slowed , allowing me to regain my bearings in the city. I recognized where we were, and directed Epona towards the merchants row, where I could find a cloak and an inn.

I hurriedly bought the cloak and donned it against the winter cold, against the snow storm that was coming down from the mountains. I knew that the keep would be beautiful, all covered with snow, but I could not bring myself to bear the presence of my brother, who had so wrongly accused me. I had not glamoured Martin Septim. If anyone had glamoured anyone, it would appear that _he_ glamoured _me_. I knew not how to express my regrets to Martin, but I had to attempt it. At some point, somehow, I would make it up to him.

How, however...that too was I unawares as to how to do.

He stood there as a statue in the courtyard where only minutes before his love had been. There were tears streaming down his face, though no sobs racked his physical self. He ws now alone, and it made him distraught. He, Martin Septim, was now, in essence, alone. So very much alone.

Though he knew not how to say, he loved her, Aeryn la Sanguine, his shining star, the light of his life. Now that she was gone, the outside air was bitterly cold, tearing at his robes. Now that she was gone, he was alone. Now that she, his light, was gone, the stars were nowhere to be seen, and he was left in the dark, pining for the woman he loved, his sun, to return.

**A/N: I know that this chapter is a little screwed up. I know that you're probably confused. Don't worry, or rather, worry more, because I have no idea either. My fingers just kind of…took over. I did, however, find that I wanted to roll with what I was doing. I have already figured out how to fix what I've just done, and I hope you will bear with me, as I never really tend to write in a linear path. I hope that you all are not too frustrated with me as I post this nor as you read this, for this should turn out for the better. This is how I conquer my writer's block. And this is how the rest of the story may seem; confusing. But, once the story is finished, you all should be able to see where I was going more with this…..thing I'm doing now.**

**Yours always in words,**

**Silver Crimsonthorn**


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Oblivion. I own the characters of my own creation and all other intangible personal property within this story. I do not claim the entirety of the plot of this story, considering that it closely follows the main quest of Oblivion. This is a work of fiction, and as such, the characters are as well. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Thank you for your time.

Chapter Two

Aeryn lay on the bed she rented for the night and stared blankly at the gaudy colours of the ceiling of her room at the inn. She sighed, and closed her eyes. "_Martin..._"

She missed him. She loved him. She...needed him, somehow.

She wanted desperately to return to Cloudruler Temple.

But she could not.

She thought of her time spent with him, and began to cry.

x.x.x

"Aeryn," inquired Martin with a skeptical look on his face, "why do you do that?"

Aeryn looked up from oiling her bow. "Why wouldn't I care for my weapons? A weapon in good condition can be the difference between life and death, Martin. You should know that."

Aeryn continued to lavish her bow and rub down the black and crimson ebony surface with bear fat and willow oil.

Martin watched her in her task. "Aeryn...what do you mean?"

She sighed again. "Do you know how to shoot?"

It was Martin's turn to sigh. "My...foster...father started to teach me. But then he died."

Aeryn frowned. "I'm sorry for your loss. How did he die?"

"A necromancer sent zombies and skeletons to raid our homestead. They killed him."

Aeryn frowned even deeper. "That's how I lost my mother."

Martin looked at her. She continued. "I was left mostly on my own then...my brothers were away with my father and he lived far away in the mountains. I had my mother's daggers and bow. I had a general direction. I went and found my father.

"He raised me after that. He made me the woman I am today-strong, capable, and-"

"Extremely beautiful?"

Aeryn laughed and looked at Martin. "If you think so, then I shall accept your opinion."

Martin smiled. "Thank you for telling me. It isn't often heroes tell of their pasts-especially not to near complete strangers."

"It isn't often priests tell their pasts to anyone." laughed Aeryn.

Aeryn cocked an eyebrow at Martin. "Tell me...how did he shoot?"

"He picked up the bow, nocked an arrow, fired it towards his target. Never aimed, never unstrung or cared for his bow."

"That's why. And that's terrible form, so you know."

"I figured."

Aeryn smiled kindly at Martin, though there was a vulpine twist to it. "Would you like to learn?"

Martin stared, dumbfounded, as Aeryn strung her bow. "What?"

Aeryn sighed and reiterated. "Would you like to learn to shoot a bow well enough to defend yourself?"

"I-I...yes."

"Ahh...good."

Aeryn stood up and strung her bow. "Now," she enunciated carefully, "treat my Neesus with respect, Martin. He's a good bow, and I won't have you damaging him."

He nodded as she walked over to him silently-as she always walked, he noted-and handed him the bow. "How did he teach you to stand."

By Aeryn's estimation of his stance, his foster father was self-taught. Martin stood forwards, with his feet shoulder-width apart, holding Neesus with rigid muscles.

Aeryn scoffed. "How often did he actually bring home kills?"

Martin turned to look at her. "Not very."

"Were they lame deer often when he actually found success?"

"Yes. Why?"

Aeryn grimaced. "Horrible form." she muttered barely loud enough to hear before taking Neesus from Martin. "Loosen up a bit. You don't have a bear breathing down your neck, and no one expects you to be great and regal yet. Relax."

Martin raised an eyebrow at her, and received the fine pink line of Aeryn's right brow raised in response. "Don't question me."

She approached him and began to massage and roll his shoulders until his muscles grew languid and limp, calm and far from tensed. She showed him how to stand, how to keep his feet firmly placed without being locked in place. And then she handed him Neesus again.

"Good. Now..."

Martin drew the bow carefully, and Aeryn adjusted where he drew the string to. "Now...concentrate. Remember this position, this feel. Let the feeling seep into your muscles, let them do the remembering, not your mind. Hold it. Feel it." Aeryn whispered ever so softly in Martin's ear. He stood for several moments before slowly letting the string pull his hand back to its original locale, letting his muscles slowly detract, guiding the taut string back to a looser place, back to its undrawn state.

Aeryn nodded in approval. "Good boy, Martin. Good boy."

Martin laughed and handed Aeryn her bow. "Who are you to call me 'boy'?"

"Martin," she cautioned, "I'm fourty-two years old."

The look on Martin's face was like a and it was rather intriguing to Aeryn. She laughed at the expression on his face for several moments before sobering up a bit and regaining her sensibility. "It's true. Really it is."

"How is that even possible?" He was simply dumbfounded, absolutely incredulous.

"Let us just say that I am not all that I appear. I am so much more than that."

Martin stared at her. "What are you, then? Ayleid?"

Aeryn looked away and snorted, and rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Martin took her hand, pulled her closer to him, closer to the fire. He guided her face to look at him, the firelight casting a reddish-gold glow on her features. "Try me, Aeryn."

Aeryn closed her eyes, felt the warmth of his flesh against hers. Though his hands were rough and calloused from many years of rough treatment and abuse as both a priest and a farmer's son, his touch was light, his grip gentle. She leaned into his firm grip, held his hand close to her cheek.

She looked at him, her eyes flashing a light pink in the firelight. "Martin…I am of the dragon-kin."

Martin stared at her for a few moments, then took one of her hands in both of his. "I believe you."

x.x.x

"_I__believe__you.__"_ Martin sighed. He remembered how her eyes had lit up only a few short months ago when he said that. He believed her. Trusted her. And now, he had lost her.

"Aeryn…you protected me. You kept me safe…and sound…and whole…and_happy_." He sighed. "Aeryn…"

x.x.x

"Martin?"

He jerked his robe up around himself, his face flushing a deep scarlet at Aeryn's voice sounding through the intricate sliding screen door to his room. "Y-yes, Aeryn?"

"May I come in? I have some things for you that Jillia asked me to bring."

Martin swore quietly and dove under the covers of his bed. "Come in, please."

Aeryn slid the door open with her foot and carried in a box full of random things. Aeryn slid the door closed in the same fashion before walking across the room to Martin's desk to set the box down so that she could unpack it. Sleeping robes, bath oils, combs, brushes, towels, glasses for drinking, a crystal container of wine…Aeryn sighed as she unpacked the box and organized its contents in the room. She frowned, and stared at a corner of the room for a few moments.

She sped out of the room, and returned just as quickly with a single pink vial and a simple, averagely designed silver dagger. Smiling—seemingly to herself—she put the vial and dagger on the shelf over the head of Martin's bed. "Goodnight, my lord, my emperor…" she softly intoned before leaving the room. The last words came to Martin as inaudible, known only to Aeryn…

x.x.x

Aeryn smiled fondly as she recollected. "…my dearest Martin" she had called him. Her dearest…

x.x.x

"SHIT!"

He was alarmed, unprepared, in danger. Aeryn raced for her bow, knocked from her hand by the Minotaur against which she fought. Martin tried to run, but encountered the Spriggan which now chased him with her earthen fury ablaze.

The Spriggan lunged at Martin, tried to rake him with her claws, failing by only a slight margin.

"Aeryn!"

She kicked the Minotaur in the stomach and attempted to regain her breath, knocked from her as it was by a sweeping blow from the bullish beast. Her mind was racing with the possibilities and moreover, with fear. Martin was in danger, but in order to save him, she would have to sacrifice herself, which in turn, would place him into the same danger in which she was about to place herself. And were she to do that…

"_Martin__…"_

She lunged at the Spriggan, tore its head from its neck and turned in the same fluid motion to return to her fight with the Minotaur.

But she was too late.

The Minotaur's sharp horn gored Aeryn, raking her side, leaving a long, wild gash in her right side. But as it gored her, she took hold of its throat and squeezed, digging her nails into its jugular, piercing the vein, sending the beast to the ground in the same smooth fell motion that gored her side.

Aeryn sank to her knees, holding her side with a pained expression, her breathing labored, her breaths coming in hard, painful pants. Tears slipped from her eyes as she clenched her teeth against the pain.

Martin approached her slowly, tentatively, unsure of what had just happened. "Aeryn?" Doubt permeated his voice. "Are you alright?"

Aeryn's head snapped up, her eyes wild with panic. "Martin, run. Get to the road. Find a patrol. Have him take you to Bruma. Get back to Cloudruler Temple. Get back to Jauffre. Go. I can't protect you now."

Martin approached her further, just as unsure. "Aeryn?"

She moved her hand from her side. Martin gasped as he saw how stained with the crimson of blood it was. "Aeryn…"

Aeryn closed her eyes, opened them slowly. "I took too much damage. I won't be able to heal. The Minotaur hit some of my internal organs. I'll be dead soon."

Martin sank to his knees at her side. "Aeryn…I'm sorry, but this will hurt, likely more than it hurts now."

Aeryn looked at Martin, a look of incredulity crossing her calm—though pained—features. "What are you—"

Martin laid his hands on her side, and a pale blue light shone beneath them. Aeryn's face contorted with the pain as she sank to her hands and knees with the pain, crying out, screaming with the pain. Tears spilled down her face, ran in small rivulets, fell upon her pallid breast.

Her wound healed slowly and surely under the tender light of Martin's magica. Her flesh reformed, her muscles knitted together, her organs became whole. The light of Martin's spell faded, and Aeryn collapsed onto Martin's lap. She wept, and Martin scooped her up, cradled her, rocked her, brushed away her tears with his thumb.

"Shh….hush now. Shh…it's all right, Aeryn. I'm here."

x.x.x

Aeryn remembered well how she gripped Martin's robes, how she clung to him, how he'd picked her up and carried her to the road, carried her as she cried, as she suffered her massive catharsis, carried her until he found a patrol, rode with her to the nearest inn, carried her inside, to a bed…how he had lain at her side the entire night, stroked her cheeks, her hair, thumbed the sensitive tips of her ears…held her close as she cried in her sleep, kissed her tears away as they fell when she was awake.

Aeryn held herself close, wrapped her arms firmly about her midsection as though her sorrow would rip her apart at any moment.

"_Martin__…__why__you?__"_

A faint knock sounded through the solid wood of the door to her room, and her head snapped up, stared at her door, and stopped the low growl that was developing in her throat.

The knock came again. "Miss?"

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "_The__Innkeep.__Of__course.__"_

"Come in."

He peered in the room before stepping in fully. "Ma'am…I know that you said to leave you be, to leave you to your thoughts…but the missus has some food on, told me to come tell you that if you wanted to eat, it was there for you…"

Aeryn sighed. "Get my horse."

The Innkeep looked at her. "Miss?"

Aeryn glared at him. "I had said for you to get my horse. I am packing my bags and leaving…returning to those that need me. Hurry about it, man! Fetch my horse!"

He sped out of the room, worry permeating him, sweat pouring from his brow. Aeryn couldn't tell why.

Aeryn moved about the room, staying still long enough to put her things in saddlebags. And that was not long at all.

"_Martin__…__I__'__m__coming.__"_

She ran from the room, her bags in hand, and flew down the staircase, nearly skipping it entirely. Those in the common room stared; she was beautiful, well groomed, obviously of high birth and status. She was exquisite and unusual, her long flowing hair a rosy pink hue, her skin pale, her form lithe and small, her strength great. She moved as though her feet did not touch the ground, and quickly left, and situated her bags on her horse's saddle.

Astride her horse, Aeryn sighed again, but this time, it was in relief.

"_Aeryn?__"_

Aeryn arched her eyebrow. "Yes, Epona?"

"_We go to see the Martin-Emperor?"_

"Yes…we go to stay."


End file.
